


Obvious Child

by anactoriatalksback



Category: Silicon Valley (TV)
Genre: Crossdressing, Infantilisation kink, Jared can be a little bit scary, M/M, Mother Complex, Sexual Roleplay, Spanking, What Have I Done
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-24
Updated: 2018-04-09
Packaged: 2019-03-23 12:41:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13787994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anactoriatalksback/pseuds/anactoriatalksback
Summary: In which Richard doesn't know how to ask for what he wants, but gets it anyway. Strap in for Richard being a brat and Jared knowing what to do about it.





	1. Speak Roughly to your Little Boy

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, I've had this chapter knocking about in my head for a while, but then robokittens and ladiesloveduranduran on the SV Discord got involved and. I. Think. It's. Going. To. Get. Weirder.

 

It begins like this.

Well.

It doesn't  _begin_  like this.

It begins...

Well, it begins...

It kinda begins at Hoolicon when Richard's cowering in his chair and Jared is leaning forward in  _his_  chair and he's stabbing two fingers in Richard's direction and his eyes are like pinpoints and he looks like he's basically only held together by rage and heartbreak and Richard can taste blood and metal and everything is very hot and coming at him very fast and he can feel the shiver building and he wants to say something but he can't because...

Or, no.

It  _begins_  when Jared's giving Gavin his very best bitchface and it's....a  _good_  bitchface, a surprisingly good bitchface, like he's all with the...laser eyes and his hands are very big and Richard is like...because it's new right now with the partnership and also Jared fully looks like he'll kill a motherfucker and that would not be...you know? But also he feels....like. Kinda. Small? And fluttery? And like...because Jared's hands are very big and like what if though what if he were looking at  _Richard_  that way and not Gavin which Richard doesn't  _want_  obviously because that’s scary Jared’s being scary right now so no of course Richard doesn’t  _want_  it but what if? And like...yeah.

Or it begins when Richard's mom yells at him when she finds him jerking off with a copy of Roald Dahl's 'Boy'. You know. With the corporal punishment. That one.

Which. Richard can't remember actually  _happening_  , and like, it’s not really the..he’s never read ‘Boy’, and like it probably _didn’t_ happen but it’s the _kind_ of thing that would have happened and maybe he  _wouldn't_  remember, right, maybe that's the point, like maybe he'd. Repress the memory?

Or, fuck, maybe it really begins when Richard's a foetus and he actually knows what he's doing for like the last time in his life and he only kicks when his mom raises her voice at someone. That would make sense.

Jesus. Maybe it begins when Richard's great-great-great-great-great-great grandfather, fucking...Orangeman Zephaniah Reliability Hendricks, maybe he pops wood when the priest whips him for kiss-chasing or pig-stealing or being a Protestant or whatever the fuck.

Or maybe it begins when some fucking caveman Hendricks chubs up behind his deerskin when the witch doctor yells at him. Or like, was interrupted jerking off by a pissed-off woolly mammoth so like. You know. There's the. That's. How it..y'know. There's the. Link. The missing link, haha, shut up Hendricks.

The point is, maybe  _it_  doesn't begin like this, Richard doesn't know what  _it_  is or where _it_  begins.

But  _this_? Begins like this.

There’s a crisis. Or a pre-crisis, really. Because of course there is. They’re behind. Because of course they are. And only Richard can fix it. Because of course.

So Richard’s clattering away and knocking over cans of Red Bull with his elbows because he’s fucking drowning, he’s inundated, his eyes are doing the sorcerer’s pinwheel thing. Dance-y? Jared’s word, right? Yes. Dance-y. Everything’s getting very bright and very blurry and he’s only going on muscle memory but he’s close, it’s close, so close, if he just…

And then there’s a soft touch at his elbow. ‘Richard?’

Richard doesn’t turn around, doesn’t flinch, he can feel when it’s Jared even before Jared speaks, it’s like…the way he disturbs the air is apologetic, somehow, and though Richard owes his continued survival to constant paranoia, something about Jared, like, soothes Richard’s reptile brain, it’s like it registers that Jared’s not a…

Well, not that he’s not a  _threat_. Not exactly.

More like….whatever he does. Or will do. Wants to do. Is.

Is…

Okay, let’s go with ‘not a threat’.

Instead, Richard says, nose five inches from the screen, ‘Yeah, Jared?’

‘Richard, you promised you’d get some sleep tonight.’

‘Yeah, but it’s – I just need to - ’

‘Richard...’

‘Look, just – just five minutes, okay, I’m close, I can - ’

‘Richard, please, you said that an hour ago, I really need you to - ’

And just…God, it’s not like…okay, Richard knows he won’t fix this tonight, is probably making it worse for himself tomorrow, he’s getting sloppy and the draggled edges of his shit code are going to snag like fucking hangnails and he really just should go to bed.

But it’s so close and more to the point he’s  _here_  and if he goes to sleep he’s going to have to get  _up_  and  _walk_  to his bedroom and climb  _up_  to the bunk bed and  _lie down_  and he’s tired, he’s so  _tired_ , why can’t Jared just, why is he here, buzzing like a fucking…a fucking  _mosquito_  around Richard right now, being there and reminding him of things and pointing him to things and making him, just…

‘Richard, please - ’

‘Fuck off,  _mom_.’

Richard freezes. So does Jared.

And for a moment…a very long moment…nobody says anything.

Richard, specifically, doesn’t say anything.

He wants to. He wants to say he’s sorry, so sorry, so fucking sorry, he didn’t mean it, he’s just, he’s tired, fuck fuck  _fuck_.

And he  _is_  sorry, and he  _didn’t_  mean it. Although he didn’t… _not_  mean it.

And he’s started forward, hand out, words – or rather, one ‘OhshitnoJaredI’msorryI’msuchafuckingI’msosorryitwasn’tyou’rerightI’mso’ – ready to tumble forth, when he catches Jared’s eye.

And in that moment – that long, dreamy, life-flashing-before-your-eyes-before-you-go-down-for-the-third-time-and-drown moment – Richard thinks of multiverse theory.

In one universe – one horrible, truly horrible universe that Richard just fucking hates that he even, like, thought into being – Jared doesn’t say anything, just…looks at him, that desperate, helpless, hopeless loyalty, and Richard will fucking…just shove his head into the sand, he'll hate it, hate it all so much, begin to apologise, choke out something, freeze, try to be nicer to Jared, probably forget, and Jared will just take all the, the indignity, the disappointment, the constant fucking letdown and turn it all on himself, until he snaps and when he does the first thing Richard feels is relief.

In another, Jared looks at him, eyes shiny with tears, just…welling over, so blue, and Richard fucking falls over himself apologising and Jared falls over himself soothing Richard’s feelings and somehow Richard says ‘don’t do it again’ when he means that  _he_  won’t do it again, and they like smile and it gets a little..then they have one of those  _things_  that they have that make Richard feel wobbly and then they never talk about it.

But in  _this_  universe, Jared looks at Richard, and Richard doesn’t know what he sees, what Richard’s desperately broadcasting, but there’s a little…flicker? Of something in his eyes. And he tilts his head just a little, like three sixteenths of a degree.

And he says ‘Richard.’

And Richard feels it, that shy hot shiver, and is hit with a wave of ‘Oh thank  _God_.’

‘Richard’, says Jared, and the metallic crispness of his voice makes Richard….Richard can _feel_ it between his shoulderblades, he wants to shut his eyes, wants to bolt from the room, wants to freeze, wants to....but all he does - all he  _can_  do - is stare into Jared's eyes. It's like, it's like Jared's voice is like the point of a swordblade under his chin, forcing him to look up. 

So he does, and swallows.

This isn't the Hoolicon stare, and it isn't the bitchface stare. This is something...

Like.

Like Richard knows now what it's like to be under a microscope.

But also he feels like he knows now what it's like to be...

Dinner?

‘How long, Richard?’ says Jared, and he sounds...interested? Like a velvety politeness that’s gonna splinter any second before Jared goes on, like, a berserker rampage. ‘How long do you think I’ll endure it?’

Richard swallows. ‘I - ’

‘No’, says Jared, and it’s not even…it’s not. It doesn’t sound mad. It’s just…an instruction. Direct to Richard’s vocal cords. ‘You’re _done_ talking, Richard.’

Richard swallows again.

‘How long do you think you can keep me on the hook, Richard? With your rages, and your rashness, and your reckless _folly_? How long will you chase your white whales? How many tossing waters, how many storms on the deck? How many wounds, how many distempers, how many messes, how long do you think I’ll follow you, Richard, with a _bucket_ , Richard? How long can you reel me in, and spit me out, again and again and again? How long do you think I’ll _consent_?’

Richard’s shaking, he’s physically shaking, he can feel it, he wants – violently – to say something, to…defend…himself, to…but there’s actual sparks fucking…dancing…along his spine, he can’t, he actually literally can’t.

jared leans in, and his eyes, his eyes, his eyes are, fuck, they’re like light refracted through a diamond, so hard and bright and fuck fuck _fuck_.

‘It isn’t…’ and Jared swallows here, falters just a little, and Richard can feel the spell wavering, can feel the hold breaking, can feel himself beginning to rise, to bolt, when Jared’s had snaps up and he _pins_ Richard to his seat with his eyes.

‘I can…I can tolerate being….taken for granted, Richard’, and oh God, oh God, he’s welling up a little, was this in the, was this, is this, no, fuck, no, Jared Jared _Jared_ , ‘it’s…I know I can’t expect, shouldn’t demand…..consideration, it - ’

‘Jared…’

‘ _No_ ’, and oh fuck oh thank God oh Jesus the word flicks out like a whip, like it may have left a literal mark, ‘what did I tell you, Richard?’

He pauses, and like. Is Richard…should…but…

‘What’ says Jared, leaning in a little further, Richard can smell his soap, something clean and fresh and sharp and it’s all, everything’s so, oh Jared’s saying something, what is he saying? ‘What. Did I. Tell you. Richard?’

Richard’s trembling in his seat, he thinks…he thinks he knows the answer, but how..Jared said….

And then Jared puts his hands on Richard’s armrest, bracketing Richard, and says ‘You can speak.’

And Richard croaks ‘You…I was…done talking…you said.’

‘And’ says Jared, hands moving up the armrest, infinitesimally closer to Richard’s own arms, _fuck_ , ‘are you?’

Is…what…

‘Are you’ says Jared, and Richard can feel the heat come off him, off that Brooks Brothers sweater, off those giant fucking hands, off those eyes boring into his, ‘are you. Done. Talking?’

Richard nods, small but emphatic, yes, yes, yes he’s done talking, forever if that’s what Jared wants, he -

‘Good’, says Jared, just kinda…sliding into a purr, ‘good boy.’

And Richard can _feel_ himself preen. He’ll be good for Jared. He can be _so_ good for Jared.

‘I can tolerate….ingratitude’ says Jared, and he’s so close, he’s so close, Richard’s whole world is two giant fucking pools of blue, ‘I can tolerate indifference, I’ll accept being forgotten, Richard, I can stomach being disregarded. I’ll swallow your contumely and say thank you. But don’t ever’ and he leans even closer now, little hot puffs of breath on Richard’s face, ‘ _Ever_ turn on me for caring about this ship or its captain. I care, Richard, I care about Pied Piper, I’m here too, Richard, we made this together, I have a hand in it, in _you_ , Richard, and I’m sorry if it’s an _inconvenience_ to you, Richard, but I will not. Have. My labours. _Mocked_.’

Richard’s trembling so violently he’s genuinely afraid he’s gonna, like, buck Jared off, and then Jared would be…away, he’d be less…like his eyes would be…and his, his mouth would be… and his hands would be…and that’s unacceptable, there’s no fucking way, he…

‘Do you understand, Richard?’

Does Richard…Richard stopped understanding _any_ of the shit that was happening to him twenty fucking years ago or five picoseconds ago or whenever the fuck this.. _this_ happened, like _what_.

‘Do. You. Understand, Richard?’

And just…Richard hopes his shaky exhale counts, because…yes. No. Fuck knows.

It. Seems. To do the trick? Jared cocks his head again and says ‘Good.’

Oh yes. _Yes_.

‘And now’ says Jared, ‘what do you say, Richard?’

What does Richard say?

What does Richard _say_?

Richard _wants_ to say a fuckload of things, starting with ‘hnnnnnnnnnnnggggggggggggggggggggh’ and. No, that. Yeah. That’s. About it.

And also ‘fuckfuckfuckthankyouidon’tpleaseipromiseyou’llthisisfuuuuucccckkkk’.

And, like.

No.

But Jared – because it’s Jared – lifts his eyebrows in a very fucking _specific_ way and says again, sharper but still….kind, so kind, always so kind, ‘What do you _say_ , Richard?’

And Richard swallows and says – a thin piping treble – ‘’m sorry, mommy.’

And Jared’s eyes widen, and Richard immediately wants to die.

Because of course that wasn’t…

Why would…

Where did that even…

Why would Richard even _think_ that…

Oh God.

Oh fuck.

Oh fuck oh fuck oh _fuck_.

Richard’s about to spring out of his chair and pelt out of the room and try to like drown himself in that bathtub, when he feels Jared’s touch on his hand.

‘Richard?’ says Jared, slowly, in his don’t-freak-out-Richard voice, ‘Mommy accepts your apology.’

And Richard can feel _every single muscle_ in his body relax and seize up, all at once. He gulps, and wonders dizzily whether it’s okay for him to like. Throw himself at Jared’s skinny chest and just. Blub ‘thankyouthankyouthankyoumommy’ on like. Infinite loop.

And then Jared would…

Then Richard would…

I mean, Richard hasn’t thought _that_ far, he’s just a quaking shivering mess with sparking nerve endings and a tongue trying to say ‘sorry’ and ‘thank you’ at the same time and a boner that he both just realises he has and also at the same time feels like a constant and familiar burning weight, he’s just vaguely grateful he hasn’t had a seizure yet, it’s just…

‘Mommy accepts your apology’ says Jared, ‘But’ and he licks his lips, once, delicately, kinda…feeling his way through the sentence, ‘she’s still…very….. _disappointed_ in you.’

 _Click_.

That’s how it feels to Richard, a puzzle-piece, a solution to a logic loop. _Yes,_ he thinks, _yes, yes, that’s the…that’s the language, the fucking…the currency, yes_.

Jared glances once, a little…nervously?...to Richard, and Richard hasn’t a fucking clue what to say, how he can…comfort him, reassure him, so he just…nods. Once. Twitches his shoulder. And Jared lets out a quiet, soft exhale, his lashes flutter once and Richard’s heart squeezes.

‘And…’ continues Jared, his cheeks delicately pink, fuck, ‘you’ll need to be…punished.’

And Richard’s brain goes completely blank for a moment.

And then fills with static while his processors scramble to deal, whether to run, to hide, to plead, and fuck Richard doesn’t even know for _what_ , to, to, to…

And then Richard looks at Jared. Jared whose eyes (so blue how fuck _how_ ) are wide and fucking…like he ran Richard over, Jared whose giant hand is creeping to his chest, who Richard knows is about to apologise and like cry and then it’ll all be over and they’ll never because Jared’ll make sure of that they’ll never have this whatever the fuck this even is and _no_.

‘O-okay, mommy’ croaks Richard, and he cringes at the high thin whine of his voice, how fucking… _needy_ he sounds.

Jared’s eyes hold his for a long, long moment, and then he nods and draws himself up.

‘Now, Richard’ he says, softly, ‘will you go to bed?’

Richard nods, mutely. Jared smiles – that soft, sweet smile – and says ‘Mommy’ll tuck you in, would you like that?’

Oh _God_.

Richard nods again, emphatically.

Richard goes to the bathroom and cleans his teeth. He even flosses, because. Like. Y’know. It’s. Maybe it’ll. You never know, right?

Jared’s waiting for him outside and Richard announces ‘I flossed.’

And immediately feels like a fucking idiot.

But Jared’s warm, proud smile just _elbows_ that feeling aside, because Mommy’s _pleased_. With Richard. With a thing. That. Richard did. By himself. Without being told.

Jared’s laid out Richard’s PJs. He turns when Richard’s putting them on. Which. Richard doesn’t know how he feels about that. He’s relieved and disappointed and like what are the rules, does this even, is this on the, does Richard get to have. Feelings. About. Jared seeing him (oh _God_ ) naked?

When Richard’s done, he fidgets with the end of his t-shirt and clears his throat.

Jared turns around and smiles. ‘Up to bed, darling.’

Richard takes a second to shiver before scampering up the ladder.

He curls up as he waits, heart thumping, for Jared to shin up. Jared ducks his head as he sits at the foot of the bunk bed, and says ‘Under the sheets, Richard.’

Richard crawls under the sheets and half-sits, watching Jared.

‘Lie down, darling.’

It’s…it’s not. It’s not the easiest. They’re both full-grown men, and when Richard lies down his feet bump Jared’s thighs and they burn even though the sheets, but he’s kinda…more or less lying prone, and he’s under the sheets, and he’s managed not to kick Jared out of the bed…

And then Jared straddles Richard and crawls up the length of the bed, body hovering inches over Richard’s, and tucks the sheets over Richard’s shoulders.

And he’s close, he has to be because of the…and he’s tall, as well, so especially…that’s all it is, it isn’t…but still his breath fans over Richard’s face and his eyes are so…intent…and his hands are so gentle and Richard…just…

‘Night-night, darling. Sleep tight, don’t let the bedbugs bite.’

And he gives Richard the softest, gentlest kiss in the world.

On his forehead.

Just. Like. Like the memory of a kiss. A ghost.

Richard finds his eyes shutting anyway, and has to fight to keep them open.

Jared smiles at Richard and then scrambles off him. And how the fuck. How it’s possible for gangly, eleven-foot-tall Jared to scooch off a bunk-bed without, like, catching his foot on something and like, crash-landing onto Richard, is like.

Not. Not that Richard. _Wants_ that.

No, of course not.

No, it’s more..

Like, _how_?

But he does it, and he’s down on the floor in seconds, and Richard realises he’s about to walk away and they haven’t fixed, they haven’t _resolved_ …

‘Mommy?’

Jared turns. Richard swallows. It. This isn’t. He hasn’t. Planned. But if he doesn’t then he’ll never. Fuck it.

‘Mommy, my - ’ Richard clears his throat, ‘my – you said – punish?’

Jared stills. Richard can see his chest move. And then he speaks – carefully, again. ‘Do you – do you think you still _deserve_ to be…punished?’

And Richard’s, like, limbic system or whatever just takes over, nodding his head so violently he nearly musses up Jared’s nice hospital corners.

Jared’s eyes widen, just a little, and then he nods. ‘Then you will.’ He heads for the door, saying ‘Now get some sleep, darling.’ He switches off the light. ‘Mommy wants you rested for your punishment.’


	2. And Beat Him When He Sneezes

Richard’s waiting outside Jared’s door. His hands are shoved into his pockets and his teeth are worrying at the little thread of dry skin on his bottom lip, it’s gross, he knows it’s gross, but he’s here outside Jared’s apartment waiting for his punishment and he’s somehow so… _something_ …..that he can’t even vomit, so like. What else is there to do.

Well, ring the doorbell, for a start.

He could…not, Richard tells himself. Just…walk away. Pretend this never happened. Jared will back him up. Jared will never, ever push, or ask, or give any sign that he even remembers, if he thinks that’s what Richard wants ( _does_ Richard want this? What even _is_ ‘this’, anyway?), even if that’s what Jared…

Does Jared want this, whatever it is?

Is…

Does Richard…

Should he….

What does he even….

What could he even _begin_ to….

And Richard can feel the sweat break out on the back of his neck at just the thought of, like, talking about…about _anything_ ….when his hand reaches up and presses the buzzer.

‘Thanks’, Richard hears himself thinking at his hand, which. Yeah. About right for where Richard’s at right now.

The door opens, and there’s Jared. Jared with his hair and his hands and his eyes looking soft and a little…hazy around the edges? Uncertain?

‘Richard, how nice. Come on in.’

Which. Jared was. Expecting him, right? Like. Jared sent that Outlook invitation. He specified the location and everything. This was…Richard was _meant_ to…right?

Richard trails after Jared, one hand smoothing over his hair, in a belated and almost definitely futile attempt to…what? Nerve himself? Look nice for…Jared? Mommy? His punishment?

Oh God.

Jared invites Richard to sit down, and brings out a tray of cookies which he sets before Richard. ‘Please, Richard, help yourself. Would you like some tea?’

Richard nods, more to have Jared be…away….than for any other reason. He picks up a cookie and holds it in both hands. Warm in his hands, comforting and sweet.

Like Jared.

Well, not always.

Jared’s not always sweet.

In fact…

Well, in fact isn’t that why Richard’s here?

For Jared’s….not-always-sweetness?

For Jared’s….

His…

The cookie crumbles in Richard’s hands, scattering all over the floor.

‘Fuck!’

Jared races back into the living room, concerned, and then relaxes.

‘Sorry’, mumbles Richard.

‘Oh, Richard, please don’t worry about it. So long as you’re okay.’

Richard writhes and nods. Jared places a steaming mug of tea gently in front of Richard. Looks searchingly into his face for the briefest moment, turning away just as Richard’s eyes dart down to the little cairn of cookie crumbs by his chair.

Jared sits down. Smooths his hands along his thighs – Richard twitches in his chair at the sight – and takes in a breath. ‘Richard? We – we can just have… have tea, if you like. We don’t have to…’

Richard nods. Jared’s eyes and mouth do a series of complicated things before he says ‘Fine. We’ll – we’ll just…talk, or, or watch something, or….’

And Richard realises that Jared has…misunderstood? _Did_ Jared misunderstand? Was that what Richard had meant when he nodded? That they should…forget about…and like, Netflix instead?

Yes, thinks Richard. That is what he meant.

Fine.

They’ll.

Watch, like, nature documentaries or something about the Khmer Rouge or whatever.

Yeah.

It’ll be.

Better.

Yeah.

Nice.

And Richard will have tea and cookies which this time he’ll manage to put into his actual fucking mouth like an actual fucking person and they’ll never speak of this again.

Great.

‘No’, Richard hears himself saying. ‘I didn’t mean we….sh-shouldn’t…or…I mean, yeah, we can just…tea or…but when I nodded, I, I was just. I understand. Is what. I.’

Or that.

Okay. Richard is clearly not in any kind of control here. Comforting.

It _is_ comforting, he realises.

Richard coughs. ‘Unless. I. Do you not…want to…?’

Jared looks at Richard quickly, and Richard’s stomach flips at the look in his eyes.

‘I do’, says Jared, and swallows. Richard swallows too. ‘I..Richard, I do want to.’

Richard licks his lips. ‘I…I want to, too.’

They look at each other for a long, long moment. Jared looks…unsure, thinks Richard. Excited. Terrified.

Is that Jared, or is Richard just…I mean, Jared’s eyes are very clear and very blue, is Richard just…seeing himself reflected back?

Then Jared rises and goes into his…

Bedroom?

Richard watches him leave, frozen to his chair.

And then jerks to his feet and trails after him.

Jared’s sitting on his bed (oh _God_ ), hands on his thighs. He looks up as Richard hovers in the doorway.

‘Richard?’, he says. ‘We haven’t discussed your…punishment.’

Richard swallows. Croaks ‘I – whatever you.’

Jared’s eyes widen. Then he shakes his head. ‘No, Richard, we – this needs to be something you – we – agree to, we can’t just…’ he trails off, lashes fluttering. Takes in a breath. ‘What…how do you….think you need to be punished?’

And just.

 _What_.

No.

Jared has…anticipated Richard, intuited what he wanted, or needed, given it to him before he could even..fucking…all the time they’ve known each other, and now – now – Richard has to. To. Open his mouth. And. And say things? About. What he. Wants to. Wants Jared to…

 _Now_?

Richard finds he’s shaking his head. Violently. His eyes fly to Jared, and Jared’s head tilts. He nods, just once, just a little, as though he’s reading something Richard doesn’t even know he’s broadcasting, and says, gently ‘Richard? Do you think you deserve to be…’ he swallows and then continues, ‘do you think you deserve a spanking?’

And oh.

 _Oh_.

Richard lets out a long, shaky breath. He edges further into the room, hands shoved into the pockets of his hoodie. Jared watches him. Doesn’t take his eyes off him.

‘Richard?’, he says, as Richard nears him. ‘Is that what you want?’

Richard swallows. Sidles a little closer. Close enough to feel the heat from Jared’s body. Close enough that his knees bump Jared’s. ‘How’, he begins. Clears his throat. ‘How do you – want me?’

It’s a larger question, he realises, but either way Jared wants to answer…

Jared’s eyes widen. One of his hands rises. Brushes his own hair behind his ear. His eyes find Richard’s again. ‘Would you’, he squares his shoulders, ‘Mommy wants you across her knee, Richard.’

_Yes._

Richard scrambles to the bed. Jared’s scooting over so Richard won’t be dangling off, and Richard’s chin bumps Jared’s shoulder.

‘Sorry!’

‘Sorry!’

‘It’s – ‘

‘No, it’s fine, I’ll - ’

‘Are you - ’

‘Yes, is this - ’

‘Yes.’

Richard’s across Jared’s knees. Not…sprawled, exactly, so much as…bunched? He’s propped himself up on his elbows and his knees are bumping Jared’s thigh and his ass is up in the air and it is extremely important to state that nobody’s penis is touching anybody’s.

Extremely important.

‘Richard?’ Jared coughs. ‘I – Mommy needs you to – to take off your jeans.’

Richard’s head twists around to stare at Jared, who is very pink.

Jared coughs again. ‘I – I should have thought of that before I asked you to…well, before, but, I – well, I need you to – not all the way, but I just…’

Richard’s still staring at Jared. Jared turns even pinker, and then pales.

‘Unless that’s not what you – oh, that was presumptuous, of course we can still with, I understand, that wasn’t, I only thought the impact would be, but of course - ’

Richard swallows. Gets off the bed. Unbuttons his fly. Pulls his jeans past his ass. Can’t quite bring himself to take them off altogether.

‘Your’ and Jared licks his lips. ‘your – your underpants too, Richard.’

Richard pulls off his underpants. Closes his eyes at the cool of the air on his stirring cock. Hears Jared’s careful indrawn breath.

Lowers himself across Jared’s knee before he can look at Jared. Doesn’t bother to stick his ass in the air, I mean there it is, all…with the…goose-bumps and the…. Oh God what is even…

‘Richard?’ Jared’s voice is careful. ‘I’m – I’m going to…strike you now. You can still say - ’

Richard pushes his ass up and his face down.

Jared lets out a breath. ‘O- okay. I – if you could – lower your, your bottom, Richard, and I’ll - ’

Richard lowers his ass, slowly, until it’s resting against Jared’s chino-clad thigh. His bony thigh radiating heat directly (well, okay, through those fucking chinos) to Richard’s groin.

It’s so…Richard can’t tell whether he wants to freeze, or melt, or kinda…rock himself gently to and fro, or…

He’s still debating when there’s a _thwap_ , and Jared’s hand lands on Richard’s ass.

It’s – Richard’s not even sure if it hurts or not. But the _shock_ of it – the, the _outrage_ – propels him up and out of the bed. He’s scrambled away, rubbing his ass and glaring reproachfully at Jared before he even knows what he’s doing.

‘Ow’, he says, distinctly. It’s – I mean, he doesn’t feel anything yet, but he feels it needs to be said.

Jared’s eyes are wide at first, his hands wringing, and then he takes in a long, slow breath. His hands untwist themselves and lower themselves, palms flat down on his thighs. He looks very directly at Richard.

‘Richard’, he says, calmly and clearly, ‘we can stop if you would like to. Would you like to?’

Richard stops rubbing his ass.

 _Would_ he like to?

I mean, it…

They could…

But then they’d never…

Because how the fuck is this even happening _now_?

Richard’s arms drop to his sides.

Jared’s eyes are still on him.

‘Richard?’, he says, ‘would you like to stop?’

Richard fidgets.

‘I can take it’, he says.

Jared’s eyes sharpen, and then he nods.

‘Richard’, he says, ‘Mommy is very disappointed in you.’

Richard shivers.

‘You said that you’d take your punishment’, Jared continues, ‘and what did you do? Jumped up and ran away like a baby.’

Richard gasps but Jared continues in the same measured tones. ‘You’ve let Mommy down. But more importantly, Richard? You’ve let _yourself_ down.’

Richard’s staring at Jared with his mouth open. Mouth open and cock twitching.

Because _fuck_.

‘So’, says Jared, ‘if you think you can be good for Mommy, I want you to come here. Come here, Richard, because Mommy’s not going to chase you and make you take your punishment.’

  _Fuck_.

Richard goes to Jared. Lies down meekly.

‘Good’, says Jared. ‘And now, Richard, because you wouldn’t take your punishment before, it’s going to be worse.’

‘W-worse?’

‘Do you understand, Richard?’

Richard nods.

‘Do you want to stop, Richard?’

There’s a moment, and then ‘I can take it’, Richard chokes out.

‘All right then’, says Jared. ‘Ten. I want you to count them out. I’ll add one for every one you don’t count.’

Richard tenses as Jared’s hand comes down. He can’t help it, he knows it’ll only make it hurt worse, but it can’t – maybe that’s even what he. Deserves. Because he did. He did try to. To run. And Mommy had to. She was only trying to. And Richard…

_Thwap!_

It. It _does_ hurt. It stings. It burns, a slow flame licking out from the point of first impact.

‘Richard? You’re not counting.’

‘O-one’, says Richard.

‘Good.’

_Thwap!_

‘Two.’

The heat settles now. Low, low, sinking through Richard flesh and bone, down, inexorably, to his groin. Richard gasps. Tries to lift his cock, rubbing against Jared’s chinos.

 _Thwap!_ ‘Stay down, Richard.’

‘S-sorry.’

‘And keep counting.’

‘Th-three’. Three, right? It was three?

_Thwap!_

Richard moans. The angle’s a little different, the impact jars him against Jared’s thigh, and the friction against his cock, it’s…

‘Richard…’

‘Four!’

_Thwap! Thwap! Thwap!_

Three in quick succession, peppering his ass, all in different places. Sharp, short taps, lighting him up in places he never knew existed, making him push up against that giant palm, unheeding of Jared’s admonitory click of the tongue, groaning as he’s pushed roughly against Jared’s thigh.

‘Five’, Richard gasps, rocking forward to feel the friction against his cock. ‘Six’, with a stealthy push back, ‘Seven.’

_Thwap!_

Richard claws himself forward resting against – oh God – Jared’s groin, which is – oh. _Oh_.

‘Richard?’ Jared sounds a little out of breath. ‘You need to – ‘

‘Yeah?’ Richard grinds down a little against Jared. Oh yes, yes, _yes_.

Jared gasps, very quietly. ‘Richard, you need to – count, otherwise I - ’

Oh yeah. Jared adds one for every smack Richard doesn’t count.

Richard ducks his head against the covers. Waits.

Hears Jared’s shaking breath.

‘I see.’

_Thwap!_

‘Eight’, gasps Richard, rocking in Jared’s lap, faster, faster, his cock’s leaking now, his blood is singing, every time Jared’s hand lands it’s like he can feel it, just for a flash, in him, on him everywhere, it’s…

_Thwap!_

‘Nine’, grinding vigorously against Jared.

‘Richard, Richard, stay still, I don’t - ’

Richard can barely register, it’s close, it’s so close…

‘Richard.’

And then one hand grips Richard firmly, holding him in place, while the other hand whistles down on Richard’s ass.

_Thwap!_

And Richard comes, shouting, spurting up his own belly, across Jared’s chinos and shirt.

‘Ten’, he mumbles, once he’s come to.

Jared’s petting his hair, he realises. It’s…nice.

It’s so nice.

And then Jared reaches over Richard and pulls out a bottle. There’s a squirt and then Richard yelps as cool hands stroke over his ass.

‘Aloe’, murmurs Jared. ‘Mommy’s little soldier needs some.’

Richard shivers as those long, long fingers stroke over him, easing the burn. Gentle, tender, careful.

So good.

Mommy’s so good to Richard.

Even though…

Even when….

Richard feels the prickle at the corners of his eyes. Knows the tears are coming, will spill before he can do anything about them. Bucks in Jared’s lap as he tries to bury his face in the bedclothes.

‘Richard? Richard, what’s wrong?’

Richard shakes his head. Tunnels in when he feels Jared’s hand on his shoulders. Struggles feebly as Jared lifts him.

‘Oh, Richard.’

Richard sniffs as Jared rests his head against his chest.

‘Richard, we don’t have to, I shouldn’t have - ’

Richard clutches Jared. The words ‘Just please this is so fucking much I can’t but also please please _please_ ’ quiver on his lips.

What he says, fingers clawing at Jared’s button-down, is ‘I can take it.’

There’s a silence, and then Jared smiles.

‘Of course you can’, he says, fingers brushing through Richard’s hair. Richard subsides against Jared’s chest. He’s left…snot on Jared, he realises, along with…the….other stuff. ‘Mommy’s brave little soldier.’

Richard hiccups. Nods against Jared’s shoulder.

Jared plays with Richard’s hair for a while. Richard sighs in satisfaction.

‘Such pretty hair’ says Jared. ‘Would you let Mommy wash it for you?’

Wash it?

Isn’t that…

I mean, it’s…

And then Richard sees he’s getting snot into his own hair as well as all over Jared’s shirt, and considers. He _is_ going to have to wash his hair at some point. May as well be now.

The hair-washing is…nice. Richard hasn’t had a bath in…I mean, it’s not like he does anyway, and like have you seen the state of the bathtub in the Hacker Hostel, so anyway it’s…and it’s not like he’s gonna make a habit of it, but maybe just this once? And if _Jared_ wants it, then…

Richard winces as he lets himself into the tub – the hot water’s a shock to feel against his ass – but Jared’s nimble fingers moving through his hair, massaging his scalp, thumbs rubbing gently, it’s just so….He sighs, lets his head tip back, lets Jared take the weight. Feels Jared’s breath on his skin. Hears him shift his weight as he crouches outside the tub. Watches dreamily as suds pop on Jared’s button-down. Tilts his head to look at the veins under Jared’s pale skin. Richard thinks vaguely that he’d expect to shiver at the sight of Jared’s exposed wrist. Richard always has to take a moment when Jared’s cuffs ride up and Richard can see the glint of that white wrist. So…naked, somehow, so obscene. But now it seems…everything’s so…gauzy, and warm, and soft around the edges, it’s so…

Safe, he realises. In the, the amniotic warmth of the water. Like he could stay here forever and nothing could touch him because Mommy wouldn’t let them.

He doesn’t know how long the bath takes. The water’s still warm when Jared tells him to get out. He lifts his arms obediently for Jared to towel him dry. Jared passes briskly, efficiently, over his body. No lingers, he’s doing a job. He even looks away, blushing a little, as Richard climbs into his clothes, which kinda tickles Richard.

And then Jared asks Richard to sit down, and he takes out a brush.

He tries hard to find a side-part as surgical as his own, but Richard’s hair – even wet – refuses to oblige. But Richard likes watching him try.

As the bristles slide through his hair, Richard finds his eyes shutting.

‘So beautiful’, says Jared, and Richard’s eyes drag open. ‘Such beautiful hair Mommy’s little angel has.’

Richard ducks his head, blushing, and his eyes fall on Jared’s hand, wrapped around the handle of that brush.

‘Is that’ says Richard, ‘what kind of - ’ he coughs, ‘is that h-hickory?’

There’s a silence. Just long enough for Richard to want to scramble up and head for the door when Jared says ‘No.’ Another pause and Jared says ‘Would you like it to be?’

Richard’s blushing, he can feel it. He jerks in his seat. Lowers his gaze. Yelps as he feels the handle of the brush under his chin, lifting it inexorably up so he can meet Jared’s eyes in the mirror.

He takes in a shuddering breath. Watches his own hand rise to grip the handle over Jared’s hand.

Jared breathes in. Quietly. Takes the brush through Richard’s hair. ‘I’ll get hickory next time’, he says.

Richard doesn’t say anything. Can’t.

‘So beautiful’ sighs Jared as the brush moves through Richard’s hair. ‘There was this little girl at one of my foster homes. Such shiny curls. And a bright blue bow in her hair.’

Richard’s eyes fly to Jared’s.

‘Oh, Richard, I didn’t mean – of course, there’s no reason you should…’

Richard lowers his eyes as visions assail him.

Of course he doesn’t _want_ …

I mean he’s never…

But there’s something…

Would Jared…wash his hair before, or….?

After, or….?

Is there…

Would Jared…dress his…hair?

Not that Richard wants…

No. No, he _definitely_ doesn’t.

Because…

And then…

Richard coughs. ‘I’d. I have to.’ He jerks upright and away from Jared.

Jared nods. ‘Of course. Good night, Richard. Thank you for stopping by.’

‘Yeah’, says Richard. ‘I. Thank you. For. Thank you.’

And he stumbles out.

That night, he sleeps on his front, and grits his teeth as the sheets brush his ass. Tries not to whimper out loud. Mostly succeeds.

He sleeps in so late the next morning that Gilfoyle throws a slipper at his head to wake him.

And the reason he’s woken him is that there’s a crisis.

In the melee of crashes and bugs and collapses and links that don’t and syncs that won’t, it’s fully two days before Richard’s even thinking about any part of his body south of the Equator.

And then.

Well.

Oh _fuck_.

Jared did…

Richard let Jared do…

Richard. _Asked_.

Kinda.

A lot.

Because.

Richard could’ve.

But instead he…

 _Fuck_.

Does this…

What does this…

Does this mean Richard’s…

Does this mean Jared’s…

Does this mean _Richard and Jared_ are….

They can’t…

They won’t.

They won’t.

They won’t.

It’s that simple.

It was a.

Once.

And then it’ll.

It’s.

I mean Jared hasn’t said anything to Richard.

Not that he.

Not that Richard was expecting.

Or wanting.

So yeah.

It’s.

Sure.

Jared’s.

Over it.

Like Richard.

Great.

Fine.

And then Dinesh says something to Jared and he leans forward, hands lightly clasped in front of him.

Long hands.

Big hands.

Long fingers.

And Jared leans across to point something out and his cuffs ride up.

Wrists, thinks Richard.

Wrists.

 _Wrists_.

Suds. Bathtub. Hands. Wrists.

And Richard texts Jared and asks if he can come by that evening.

Not like that.

Nothing, like.

 _Untoward_.

They can just.

They don’t _have_ to.

It’s not like Richard can still feel, like, the phantom impression of Jared’s giant hand on his ass or anything.

Richard can barely _remember_.

What they…

Which they definitely don’t have to…

And won’t…

They’re not actually…

It’s not like Richard’s wearing, like, new underpants or anything.

Because that would be..

It’s..

Should he?

It would be. Polite, right?

In case they…

But they won’t.

No.

Richard’s not.

He won’t.

Should he?

No.

It’ll only…

Maybe there’s still time to…

‘Come in, Richard, how lovely.’

And Richard freezes in the doorway, mouth dry.

Jared’s in a dress.

Short, slightly puffy sleeves, full skirt hitting him just below the knee, pearls at the neck, frilly apron with an embroidered robin.

It’s a _dress_.

A….a _Mommy_ dress.

It shouldn’t…I mean, it’s not like it’s a..you know…stripper-y thing. It shouldn’t – it’s clearly designed not to be…

Y’know.

Sexy.

It’s still…it’s…

It’s…fucking hot, because Jared is…like. That.

Richard trails after Jared, click-clacking across the floor in fucking impeccable kitten heels like he wears them every day of his life (and Richard has an image of Jared sashaying into work in stilettos and trips over the leg of a chair).

‘Richard?’ says Jared, and he bites at his (flawlessly-lipsticked) mouth. ‘I – I’m afraid you have me at a – a disadvantage.’

Richard blinks.

‘It’s a bit embarrassing’, says Jared. ‘You – I know you texted to say you were coming, but I quite forgot, and – well – you see’, he gestures down to himself. ‘Not that I’m ashamed, of course not, but, oh dear, I - ’ and he looks at Richard, ‘I – oh, Captain, I wouldn’t ask this of you, it’s such an imposition, but if you – oh, if you wouldn’t mind….accompanying me?’ He turns a little pink. ‘Wearing – wearing a dress as well?’

Richard freezes.

‘So I’d feel less alone?’

Richard stares at Jared. Jared falters.

‘I – of course it’s a terrible – oh, I’m so sorry, Richard, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll take this off, I - ’

‘No!’ The words come out without any conscious thought. ‘I. I’ll. I can.’

And those red, red lips stretch into a wavering, grateful smile. ‘Oh, Richard, how _kind_. They’re laid out in the bedroom.’

Richard wriggles. Heads to Jared’s bedroom. Pushes away any and all nagging thoughts of how the fuck Jared could have put together clothes for Richard if Richard’s visit caught him with his literal pants down (or off) and dress on.

It’s for Jared, he tells himself. So Jared will feel comfortable. Y’know. Expressing himself. Or whatever.

And then he looks at the clothes.

Jesus Christ, how did Jared even…

Where did he even….

Okay, this isn’t…

He can’t….

There’s literal frills on the…

No. He can’t. This is. This is fucking ridiculous.

But then Jared will..

Okay, look.

He’ll. He’ll put on the clothes. And Jared will. He’ll see. That it’s. Ridiculous. Richard will. He’ll just have to _show_ him.

Jared’ll beg him to take off the dress.

Yeah.

Maybe he’ll. Take off the dress himself.

Yeah.

Because it’s. Ridiculous, is what.

The sailor dress is ridiculous.

As are the ankle socks.

As are the bloomers. The elastic digs, just a little, into his thighs. Richard twitches. At least they won’t fall off, he thinks. Though he will admit the satin’s kinda. It. The way it whispers against his cock and kinda slides and clings and.

Anyway. The bloomers are. Yeah.

See, he tells himself, you didn’t need to put on new underpants.

He looks at himself in the mirror and swallows.

It’s…blue, the dress, it..it matches his eyes? Kind of? Of course it does, Jared would. Know. These things. It sticks out at right angles almost to his body. The collar’s wide, very white against the dark checks.

Richard looks.

He looks.

Fragile?

Like, not in his usual bony way, but kinda..

It…

His toes are curling under his ankle-socks, he can see them.

The dress doesn’t…I mean, it doesn’t even cover the…you can see the bloomers peeking out the bottom, it’s…

Richard wants to cry, this is fucking…how could…how would….

And where’s the bow, anyway?

Obviously it’s gonna look ridiculous without the bow.

He _needs_ the bow, it’s…

Richard trusts Jared to be prepared, goddammit.

‘Jared?’ he says, striding out into the hall. ‘I need – where’s the bow?’

And then comes to a dead halt at the expression in Jared’s eyes.

‘Oh, Richard’, he breathes. ‘Oh, doesn’t Mommy’s little princess look _beautiful_?’

Richard wriggles. Can feel the heat bubbling, the blush rising from his toes. He doesn’t know whether to run from the room, or do a slow spin so Jared’s eyes – searching and proud and blue and hot – can linger on him.

‘Oh, come sit here so Mommy can look at you.’

Richard walks to Jared’s breakfast bar. Slowly, so Jared can get a good look. Perches on the stool. Tucks his legs beneath him. Hisses a little as the leather hits his ass through the thin satin. His feet dangle off the ground if he scooches well into the seat, he realises, and feels pleased with himself.

‘Look at you’, coos Jared, and Richard writhes.

‘There’s some cookie batter in the bowl’, says Jared, and holds out a spatula with a smile.

The wooden spatula.

Richard leans forward, breath catching. He’s – he’s almost afraid to ask, it’s – ‘Is – is that – the spatula, it’s – is it hickory?’

Jared’s lips curve, slow and red and conspiratorial, his eyes shining catlike. ‘No’, he says, ‘but the hairbrush is.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, all thanks to the Master of Beef for entertaining this bibble and telling me to cool my jets.

**Author's Note:**

> My thanks to ladiesloveduranduran for enduring this gunk and making it even somewhat tolerable.


End file.
